


The Star of Malkuth

by LittleWhiteTie



Category: Tales of the Abyss
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Post-Game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 06:40:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7674001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleWhiteTie/pseuds/LittleWhiteTie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Guy wakes to find himself bound to his bed. Natalia is determined to cure him… and she always gets her way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Star of Malkuth

It had been another long and frustrating day. Despite the combined efforts of Guy and Natalia, both Malkuth and Kimlasca were unwilling to provide the land or resources required for the replicas that had been left behind. It wasn’t so much a matter of greed (or so Natalia kept reminding Guy), but in the wake of all the chaos after the destruction of the Score, there were countless other affairs that both of the kingdoms had to attend to. To make matters worse, the replicas themselves couldn’t help – they had no knowledge of the world around them, let alone how to do anything that would be useful – and so the fates of thousands had been left in the hands of two.

 

Even without support, without supplies, and without transportation, the count and the princess remained devoted to their task. They were unyielding, driven by a sense of duty, compassion for the replicas left on Auldrant, and the memory of thousands of lives that had been sacrificed so that they could survive. They had to do this; they had made a promise. (Still, nobody mentioned Luke. Not ever.)

 

Despite their resolve, though, the two had spent months now traveling between the two countries with little to no progress. They’d had grandiose dreams of a land with schools and hospitals and even recreation, but as it stood, they wouldn’t even be able to provide basic living accommodations. It was difficult enough to even feed all the replicas for the time being; Guy had dipped into his personal savings while Natalia had scrimped some money by making small cuts in other budgets, but that supply was rapidly dwindling. They were running out of time.

 

Though Guy wasn’t one to get too down about things, today had been particularly dispiriting. Not only had they made absolutely no progress with Astor this evening (it might even have been a step backwards judging by the way Astor had laughed and written them off); the journey to Chesedonia itself had been unbearably arduous in the sweltering heat, traveling by foot without any protection.

 

Exhausted and dehydrated, the blonde swordsman’s strength and agility had been quickly drained, subjecting him to a nearly constant slew of hits, cuts, and stings from the monsters inhabiting the arid world of sand. Natalia had been forced to cover for him, taking down enemies with her arrows while at the same time trying to heal the wounds he kept failing to avoid.

 

Eventually, it was too much for the golden-haired princess to take, and she had collapsed from exhaustion in the desert heat. He felt pitiful, too frozen with fear to even try to catch her before she sunk to the ground. He had just stood there helplessly and watched her fall.

 

When she came to, instead of lending her a hand to help her up, he suggested they take a break to rest. Instead of bringing water to her lips, he placed the canteen on the ground within her reach. He was a damn coward, as useless as ever. After Asch had died and Luke had… disappeared… at Hod, he hadn’t been able to comfort Anise, he’d let Tear shut everyone else out, and he’d left Natalia all alone in Baticul.

 

When he and Natalia joined up again to see this project through, she had been glad to see him, but his words could only do so much to comfort her. Sometimes she would forget about his condition and reach out to touch him. Though she would always apologize profusely and chastise herself after his less than subtle reaction, he could see in her eyes that she longed for something – someone – to hold onto after so much of her life had slipped away.

 

But instead of providing the close comfort she needed, Guy always kept himself at arms’ length, too scared to get any closer.

 

Now, as he lay in bed, despite his heavy eyelids and aching body, he found it impossible to relax. His unhealed wounds stung, more than likely made worse by sand. He noticed mildly that his jaw was sore from being clenched all day. Even now, his muscles were tense and his head was swimming, and he felt more than a little unwell. He could only hope that the night might bring him some relief.

 

* * *

 

His eyes fluttered open as he woke from his uneasy slumber in what could only be the early hours of the morning. He couldn’t move. Feeling friction against his wrists and ankles from what could only be rope, he jolted awake. Adrenaline coursed through his body as he struggled against the restraints, but it was in vain. His bleary eyes adjusted to make out a blur of white, brown, gold, and… cleavage.

 

“Gah!” he cried out in a rather emasculate voice, frantically pulling on the restraints with all his strength in the other direction.

 

“You should know I’m quite good with knots,” came the ever-clear voice of his captor. “Struggling won’t get you anywhere, so hold still,” she commanded shrilly. He froze. His heart was racing and his muscles were so rigid he thought they might snap, but Guy, being Guy, did as he was told.

 

He forced his dilated pupils upward to find her face. “N-N-Natalia,” he choked out at last. “W-what’s going on?”

 

She gave him a long look. “I’m going to cure you,” she said simply.

 

His face blanched with realization. “I-I… I don’t… This isn’t--” The words got stuck in his throat, though he wasn’t entirely sure what they would have formed.

 

If he were thinking rationally, he would realize that he _did_ need to get over his gynophobia. Days like today illustrated just how much his fear impacted – endangered – others, too; she had every right to push him to overcome it. And yet he was absolutely terrified. He couldn’t do this. Didn’t she realize how scared he was? Couldn’t she see the panic in his eyes?

 

_“Please, don’t,”_ lingered on his tongue, ready to beg, but he couldn’t let the words escape his lips. Couldn’t he at least try to get over this? For her? He wished he could, but he wasn’t sure he was able to, so he blurted out the other question on his mind – this couldn’t be what it looked like. The ropes, he supposed, were necessary, but… “W-why are you wearing that?”

 

“Oh, this?” The skin-tight jumpsuit hugged her every curve. The chocolate brown leather shifted slightly as she edged a bit closer to him, unwittingly emphasizing just how _open_ the zipper was. Her smooth, pale skin was exposed, the proximity of their bodies far too close for comfort. “My travel outfit needed washing, and for all intents and purposes, this outfit is more suitable than my gown,” she said matter-of-factly. Then her voice took on a new tone as she leaned in closer to his ear. “I’m not a princess tonight, Count Gardios. Tonight, I’m the Star of Malkuth, and I’m going to take something from you.”

 

His eyes widened in disbelief, stunned. It was official: she’d gone crazy. Or maybe he was the one who’d gone mad in the desert heat. His throat felt parched as he gaped like a fish out of water.

 

There was no question about it; he had always found her alluring. She was the elegant princess who was forever out of his reach (one more thing Luke fon Fabre had in his life that he didn’t); the devoted girl who never gave up; the thoughtful and considerate young woman that she had become; the most beautiful person he knew; his closest friend still here on Auldrant. Still, in even his wildest dreams, he’d never imagined _this._

 

“N-Natalia!” he spluttered at last. “I... We--" He wanted to say something, to tell her to stop, to think about what she was doing, but he was rendered speechless as she raised a gloved hand to her mouth. Starting at her fingertips, she ever so slowly removed the glove from her right hand using her teeth.

 

A slight whimper escaped his lips. It didn’t escape her notice.

 

After both gloves were off she leaned in closer, sitting on the edge of his bed. He was paralyzed with fear, ghost-white and in a cold sweat as she slowly moved her hand towards his arm. Her movement was slow and deliberate, purposeful but still cautious.

 

Her fingertips were inches from his sleeve when she paused. He was shaking so much. “Guy?” she asked quietly. His jaw was clenched shut but his wide blue eyes met her gaze.

 

“Can you breathe?” He nodded ever so slightly. She watched his chest rise and fall a few times just to be sure – uneven, but still there. “You’re not going to be sick, are you?” He paused, as if trying to seriously assess it, before shaking his head. “Are you going to be okay?” There was a long pause, but he managed to nod once.

 

“Good,” she said, all business once again, and pressed her fingers lightly to the sleeve of his forearm. He flinched and made a noise somewhere between a gasp and a yelp, but she kept her hand steady. The rope was digging into his wrist, leaving angry red marks as he tried with all his strength to get his arm as far from her as possible.

 

She lifted her fingers off his sleeve. “Relax,” she commanded. His muscles went limp as he realized her hands were a safe distance away. “Please, Guy. I don’t want you damaging your wrists.” She frowned, though her voice softened a bit. “Can you try to hold still? For me?”

 

She waited patiently for a response, her green eyes fixed on him. He stared back with a bedraggled expression as his breathing slowly became less and less erratic. Eventually, despite the dryness of his throat, he managed to swallow and said he would try.

 

She smiled and touched his arm again with gentle pressure. His muscles tensed completely and his body was trembling, but he seemed to at least have enough control not to thrash against the ropes.

 

After making eye contact with him again, she slowly, lightly, trailed her hand up the sleeve of his arm towards his shoulder. He gasped, pressing his arm into the bed as far as he could, but didn’t try to escape.

 

He did try to escape when she suddenly climbed onto the bed and deftly positioned herself such that she was now directly over him, her slender legs trapping his hips and thighs on either side. Despite the close proximity of her position, though, she had managed to avoid making any direct physical contact. She stayed frozen like that until he could calm himself a bit, no longer tearing at the restraints.

 

His head was spinning. “Tell me… tell me this isn’t what it looks like,” he said faintly.

 

“Hmm? What does it look like, Guy?” she asked coyly.

 

He choked, face flushing, but didn’t say anything. His silver tongue was unusually tied.

 

Slowly and deliberately, her nimble fingers made their way to his collar, tracing the edges, then down to the top button of his shirt. He shuddered.

 

As she undid the buttons of his top, exposing his torso, she was met with a string of protests. “Don’t be such a baby,” she chastised, taking on the haughty air she had worn so often years ago.

 

After she paused, he cracked open an eye a sliver to steal a glance at her face. “My, I don’t see why you’re so shy,” she mused quietly, admiring his toned body. She didn’t seem to listen when he argued it wasn’t about being shy. “Well then,” she said with a grin. “Let’s get to work.”

 

* * *

One by one, Guy’s senses seemed to shut down, until all he could hear was blood thrumming in his ears and all he could feel was her cool fingertips against his hot skin. His chest still felt tight and he was very much on edge, but he recognized that intermingled with the crippling fear was an unmistakable sensation of pleasure.

 

Her hands were soft but deft, contrasting starkly with his, calloused and clammy and still shaking. Her touch was soothing yet electric. He hadn’t experienced anything like it in all his twenty-one years, and it left him breathless in more than one way.

 

Her fingers trailed delicately from his shoulders down to his wrists and back up again, lightly tracing each cut and bruise and scar. He inhaled sharply, eyes shooting open, as her hands slid down from his collarbone to the expanse of his chest. Feeling the rapid hammering of his heart from behind his ribcage, she leaned forward, curious. It skipped a beat as she did so, and he felt himself flush at the change in view.

 

“Everything okay?” she spoke into his ear. He merely swallowed, but she hummed softly, taking it as a ‘yes.’

 

And so she continued, hands roaming over his ribs, feeling smooth muscle and hard bone. His aches seemed to dissipate at her fingertips and his eyes closed again, this time less forced. Her hands moved lower, making him gasp and hold his breath as she trailed over his midsection.

 

“You’re still so tense,” she murmured, pausing before lifting her hands and moving them to his face. “And warm.”

 

His eyelids fluttered as she gently traced his jawline. His jaw slackened a bit, tension fading. Delicate fingers danced over his temples and eyelids and down to his mouth. His heart did a little somersault as her thumb traced his lower lip. _Okay. Maybe he’d imagined that one before._

 

She drew back and he felt her weight shift, reminding him none-too-subtly of her position. Her thighs were now touching his legs and he could feel heat rushing back to his face. Opening his eyes, he drank in the sight of her – all golden hair, green eyes, and slender curves. He’d long admired her beauty, but never quite from this vantage point. “Natalia.” The name escaped from behind his teeth, his voice coming out huskier than he would have thought.

 

She met his eyes and smiled at him, then boldly moved her hands down his neck to his chest, his abdomen, then below his navel. He let out a short gasp, causing her to grin. The pounding in his ears got louder and louder as she toyed with the hem of his pants, then moved her hands lower still.

 

* * *

 

Her hands stopped at his hips, then reached into the front pockets of his pants. She withdrew a few golden coins, and then sat up. Guy watched her dazedly as she untied the rope binding his wrists and ankles. “That should do it,” she said brightly.

 

His eyes narrowed slightly in confusion.

 

“For breakfast tomorrow,” she clarified, holding up the coins. “I used the last of mine on supplies. So, how are you feeling?”

 

His mouth gaped open silently, seemingly incapable of forming words.

 

“I think I got most of the scorpion venom; the rest should be out of your system soon. That was a little harder to cure. The scratches and wounds, though, those healed quite nicely if I do say so myself.”

 

Guy blinked. “…Cure…” he echoed faintly. He glanced at his arms then down at his torso to find smooth skin free of bruises and cuts, not a scrape in sight.

 

“Normally I wouldn’t have to get so close, but it’s much easier with my energy running low,” she explained.

 

He swallowed. “That’s… really all that was?” he rasped. “You tied me up just so you could heal me?”

 

“And take your money to go get breakfast,” she added. “Although I suppose I could have just asked you for that,” she said, pressing a finger against her lips in thought. “Why, what did you think?”

 

He stared at her incredulously. His cheeks were flushed, blood still coursing hotly through his body. _As if she couldn’t_ see _the effect she had on him._ His mouth opened and closed in a fish-like manner, unable to make a sound.

 

And then her lips twitched into a smile, giving her away. She broke out into a laugh, eyes twinkling mischievously.

 

Guy sighed, shaking his head, but smiled. He watched her eyes go wide with surprise and delight as he grabbed her wrists, pulled her back to the bed, and kissed her.  


End file.
